Abolition (Insurrection Book 3)

by DJ Cooper

  When he heard the old man laugh he jumped again. “Holy shit! You scared me!” he yelled, backing up.

  The old man snickered. “I expected you sooner than this, Aeryn,” he replied.

  Aeryn shook his head in confusion. Something about the old man nagged at him as familiar but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. Standing in the doorway, he tried to wrap his mind around the situation. An image of a dragonfly fluttered through his mind adding to the cobwebs of confusion.

  “What do you mean? Expected me sooner?” he asked, nervously shuffling his feet. He glanced over his shoulder toward the main door at the far end of the hallway, in search of the little sliver of light. He didn’t know whether to stay or run. He grimaced as his stomach clenched, tight with tension.

  “I mean you no harm, son,” the old man said, his voice quiet and calming, as he noticed Aeryn’s nervousness.

  Aeryn sucked in a calming breath. “Okay, so who are you?” he asked.

  “Folks round here just call me Old Man, so I guess that’ll work best,” the old man replied.

  Aeryn noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as if he were laughing at his own inside joke. “Okay, Old Man, so again, what did you mean when you said you expected me sooner?” Aeryn asked. This time he grimaced in irritation when he heard the old man chuckle.

  “Okay,” Old Man said, raising his hands when he saw the flash of anger cross Aeryn’s face. “You were destined, I guess, to find this place,” the old man said quietly, “I had expected the idiot back at the prison to send someone, let’s say, a bit more skilled? But he sent you instead. You carry the map and the book right?” he asked.

  Aeryn could see he already knew the answer. “Yes, I do,” Aeryn replied, patting the outside of his satchel. “But I can’t really read the book so I’m not sure what it means,” he muttered.

  Old Man nodded. “The book is important, as is the map. You’ll know soon enough what it all means,” he replied. With a groan, he moved off of the desktop and walked toward Aeryn. His steps were light and almost silent. Aeryn tilted his head when he noticed how he’d walked with a lightness that was so unlike his own shuffling, heavy steps.

  “Follow me,” he said, waving his hand for him to follow, as he stepped out the door and into the darkened hallway.

  Aeryn cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. He still chewed on the nagging feeling that he knew this old man from somewhere, but exactly where, escaped him. Growling under his breath, he stepped out the door.

  Old Man led him through a maze of hallways, some in better shape than others, but all in stages of decay and disarray. The lack of windows and sunlight in the interior part of the building left Aeryn stumbling over debris which the old man easily stepped around. Suddenly a torch was lit and the old man stopped before a large, steel door.

  Turning, he smiled wisely. “Your answers are in here,” he said.

  Aeryn felt a chill crawl down his spine and he shivered. “Do I really want to know?” he asked.

  Old Man grinned, “Doesn’t matter, you have no choice now but to know the truth and it is what you’ve been sent to find,” he replied.

  Then shrugging his shoulders, he pondered for a moment before turning his unwavering gaze back to Aeryn’s.

  “The people need you to know,” he muttered, almost as an afterthought. He turned the metal knob and the door opened with a screech.

  Aeryn winced as the noise pierced his ears and set his teeth on edge. He followed the old man inside and his breath caught in the back of his throat. On the wall hung a large flag of red, white, and blue, one corner of it covered in white stars on a blue background. One large wall was covered with hangers that held every manner of gun. On the third wall was a large poster, similar to the writings in his book. Tables lined up in the large room held boxes and boxes, of all sizes and shapes. But what caught his eye the most was the one wall lined with books. He walked over to it, his eyes wide with joy and surprise. He ran his fingers lovingly over the spines of the many books, longing to pick each one up and thumb through the pages.

  Turning, wide-eyed, he looked at Old Man with an expression of confusion on his face. “What is all this?” he whispered.

  Old Man grinned and waved a hand toward everything and nothing. “It’s an armory boy, it is our history. All the weapons, the ammunition, and everything that the patriots squirreled out of the cities and small towns when they saw the war was turning against them. This, my son, is our hope,” Old Man replied. Then with a laugh, he looked at Aeryn. “This is only one room, now imagine ten more rooms just like this,” he said.

  Aeryn shook his head in disbelief. “Ten more? Shit, that’s enough to supply an entire army!” he replied.

  Old Man nodded. “Exactly!” he snapped. “And enough to finally take back what was stolen from us all, our freedom,” he finished with a glint of anger in his eyes.

  “And the flag? What is that? Is it the flag of the Badlands?” Aeryn asked, his eyes once again glancing at it hanging on the wall.

  “No son, that was this country’s flag. A once proud nation,” he replied. His voice held an undertone of pride as he spoke.

  Aeryn shook his head. He’d never seen the flag before. The flag that the Elite flew was one of muted colors, a mixed wash of watercolor hues with no distinguishing stars or stripes.

  “We once had a great nation, Aeryn. One of freedom and equality. One where no class distinction set others above anyone. Once, everyone could choose to gain status by hard work, or by going to school. There was a time when individuals were not forced into slavery by their family name. Sadly, the great war was lost, and thus, so was our country. We failed you, we failed our children. We saw the danger of the Elitist rule, but we saw too late,” he murmured. “That poster on the wall? Over there,” Old Man said as he pointed to it.

  Aeryn nodded and glanced to where the old man pointed. “That is the Constitution; the founding principles on which the country was built,” he murmured.

  Aeryn moved closer to the wall hanging and tried to read the words. He still couldn’t decipher them. Looking at the old man, he shrugged. “I don’t know what it says,” he replied, feeling his face flush hot with embarrassment.

  Old Man smiled and moved beside him. Standing in front of the wall hanging he bowed his head. With a low, solemn voice, he began to read aloud. By the time he was done, Aeryn was brushing tears from his eyes.

  “I can’t imagine a life with freedom, with equality, with rights,” he murmured.

  Old Man looked at him, an expression of sadness on his face. “I know son, I know,” he replied. “And now, now we have to fight for what we so haphazardly lost.”

  Aeryn nodded. “But how?” he asked, his voice strained with hopelessness.

  Old Man turned a steely gaze toward him. “With an army,” he replied.

  Aeryn glanced over his shoulder to take one last look at the building as the old man led him out to the dirt road. Part of him ached to stay there, to explore the history that had been denied him and his people. The books called out to him and he hated that he could not read them all. What treasures were captured between those pages? He thought of Maura and his heart did a flip flop of pain. She would’ve loved this place. She could read, she loved reading, and often in the long, dark hours of the night she would sneak out a book and read aloud to him. Tears stung the back of his eyes as he thought of her and Jorin, his son. He missed them so deeply that the pain was almost indescribable.

  “So where are we going?” he asked.

  Old Man turned to him and smiled. “Zone One, a little village... not too far, as the crow flies anyway,” Old Man replied.

  Aeryn nodded. He watched the old man in front of him, his gait sure and confident. He thought him the oldest man he’d ever seen. There weren’t many elders left, at least not in Rysa. He knew it would be a rude question, but he had to know.

  “How old are you?” he asked. Old Man stopped, turned, and gazed at him pensively.

 
“Dunno stopped counting after I reached seventy,” he replied, grinning widely. Aeryn couldn’t help but laugh.

  “And how long ago was that?” he teased.

  Old Man shrugged his shoulders. “A lifetime?” he replied.

  The dirt road stretched out in front of them as they walked. Dust filtered up and tickled Aeryn’s nose and the sun beat down brutally upon his bare head, causing him to squint his eyes against it. Off in the distance, he saw what appeared to be a wall and blinked twice to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing.

  “Is that the village? Zone One?” he asked, his footsteps falling into rhythm with the old man’s.

  “Yup,” Old Man replied.

  “What is that? A wall?” he asked.

  “Yes, it stretches miles around the whole village. It took many years of back-breaking work to build,” the old man replied. Aeryn’s eyes grew wide in astonishment the closer they got. The wall stood at least twenty feet high, made of solid wooden logs. At the village entrance stood a heavy gate, large enough to drive a vehicle through. Glancing upward he saw sentries perched atop the wall. Each one carried a weapon.

  “Wow!” Aeryn said breathlessly. “This is a fortress!”

  Old Man smirked. “Yes, some would say that,” he replied then raised his hand to wave to the sentries.

  Aeryn heard the squeal of hinges as the gate was slowly opened so they could pass through. Once inside he stopped and gazed around with an expression of disbelief on his face. His eyes couldn’t move fast enough to take in all there was to see. The streets were packed dirt and crowded with citizens milling about, visiting, laughing, and shopping among the outdoor vendors that lined either side of the main road. The buildings were all well-kept and nice, unlike the shacks of his own village. The environment held a sense of friendliness and joy. The whole image was almost too much for Aeryn’s mind to process.

  “Come, we’ll find you a room,” Old Man instructed as he moved his way through the crowded street, nodding greetings to those he passed by.

  “A room?” Aeryn asked. “Does this mean that I can stay here?”

  “Yes, then I have some people I think you’ll be happy to see,” Old Man teased, a twinkle lighting up his eyes.

  Aeryn nodded, his head spinning on overload as he followed the old man, a step or two behind, watching the activity around him. He sensed no fear from anyone, saw no heads bowed with oppression. These people were happy and carefree. He almost bumped into Old Man as he stopped short in front of a small cottage. Aeryn gazed at the flower bed lining the front of it, a variety of colors exploding in the bright sunlight. The cottage itself was a pretty blue with white trim around the curtained windows and to Aeryn, it looked like a palace. Old Man made his way onto the porch and rapped lightly on the door. Aeryn watched as an older woman opened it and smiled brightly at the old man then cast her eyes toward him.

  “Martha, do you have room for a visitor?” Old Man asked. The woman smiled widely.

  “Of course I do, you old fool, when have I ever not made room for the weary traveler?” she teased. With a wave of her hand, she ushered both of them inside. Old Man strode right in but Aeryn stood in the doorway nervously, thinking of his dirty shoes, his unkempt appearance and not wanting to mess up her nicely polished wooden floors.

  “Boy? Don’t just stand there letting flies in, come in and shut the door,” Martha said kindly. Aeryn nodded and nudged the door closed behind him. The inside of the cottage was cool, the air smelled of cinnamon and apples. His mouth watered hungrily.

  “Come with me, we’ll get you settled,” Martha said then turned her kind eyes toward him.

  “What’s your name, son?” she asked.

  Swallowing past the nervous lump in his throat, Aeryn murmured in reply, “Aeryn, pleased to meet you, ma-am.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you too,” she chuckled, then cut her glance to Old Man. “You find a seat, and mind you, don’t be getting into anything,” she warned lightly.

  Turning to Aeryn she winked merrily. “He smells my apple pie cooling, if I know him, he’ll sneak a bite or two,” she chuckled.

  Aeryn nodded. He had no words. Apple pie? Was that what he smelled? He’d never tasted pie, but from the delicious odor wafting through the house, he would bet he’d like it. His stomach growled as if in agreement.

  He followed the woman as she led him to a back bedroom. She opened the door and stepped in.

  “Okay, make yourself at home,” she murmured. Aeryn glanced around, his eyes wide, his expression stunned. In one corner along the wall stood a bed, a real bed with a headboard, footboard, and a thick mattress. Beside it, a bedside stand with a lamp then on the other wall a dresser. In another corner was an easy chair. Turning he looked at her.

  “I can’t stay here,” he murmured, his face reddening with heat.

  “Why?” she asked, confused.

  “Because, you are rich,” he stammered. “I am a gray. It’s not allowed. You’ll get in trouble, it’ll lower your social score,” he muttered as if it was obvious.

  “Oh Aeryn, I am not rich, I am not an Elitist, and I won’t get in trouble, son,” she replied. Then her expression saddened with compassion. “Aeryn, I came from a village similar to yours. I was lucky though when I was a young girl my parents escaped the horrors of the Elitist rule. I never had to live the life I can only imagine you and others have lived. Old Man… he took us in, gave us a home, set us free,” she replied. “You are an equal here, we don’t have the class system. You are safe,” she finished.

  Aeryn shook his head. He couldn’t imagine being an equal, a life with no class system, a life of safety. Tears stung the back of his eyes and he turned away so that she would not see them. He’d lived in dirt and poverty, in fear and under an oppressive rule his entire life and this was too good to be true. He’d never slept on a mattress or on a real bed, he was unsure of what to do.

  “Settle in, take your time, I know it’s a lot, son,” she murmured. Turning, she stepped out the bedroom door and closed it quietly behind her.

  It was hours later and a few slices of pie when Old Man requested Aeryn take a walk with him. From across the wooden kitchen table and after several stories Old Man got up and motioned for Aeryn to follow him. “I want to show you the village,” he told him.

  Although Aeryn would have liked nothing better than to sit on the comfy chair in his room… his room. The thought made him smile, but he hesitated a moment, it still seemed almost too good to be true. He obediently followed the old man out the front door. As they slowly walked, Old Man began pointing to buildings and explaining their functions. He came to a large dorm-like complex and stopped. Aeryn could see people of all ages clustered in groups.

  “What’s this?” he asked. Old Man gazed at the clusters of people with pride.

  “This is where our citizens come to learn to fight,” he replied.

  Aeryn nodded, his gaze darting everywhere to take in the activity. He saw children as young as nine or ten, as well as older young men and women, all working in clusters.

  “Some of them are very young,” he muttered.

  Old Man nodded. “Yes, the children start training at six years old. They don’t ever see combat though until they are of age, which is eighteen,” he replied.

  Aeryn watched the groups in amazement as they trained. “Is this forced on them? What if they don’t want to?” he asked.

  Old Man laughed softly. “No, it is not forced, but most do. They never want to be subjected to the horrors they left behind.” Tugging gently on Aeryn’s arm, the old man led him further into the village. He turned left onto a side street and led Aeryn through several connecting streets until they were at the very outskirts of the village. He stopped when they came to a series of large barn-like structures.

  “This is our food system, how we feed everyone in the village,” Old Man said proudly as he waved his hand toward the barns and the connecting fenced-in paddocks. The smell of cow manure and chicken poop hit
Aeryn’s nose like a sledgehammer and he coughed, covering his nose and mouth with his hand. His eyes watering at the stench. “You raise your food?” he asked, choking.

  Old Man nodded. “Yes, we have a selective breeding program. We have cows for milk, meat and reproduction, we have chickens for meat and eggs, pigs, goats, rabbits, and guinea hens.”

  Aeryn shook his head, stunned. “But how? How did all of this come about? I mean, the Elites must know of all this. How did you create this out here... in the middle of nowhere?” he asked.

  “Ahhhh,” Old Man acknowledged. “This started many generations ago. When the citizens saw the writing on the wall, some of them woke and paid attention to the danger signs. When rights began getting chipped away by the elites, when riots and then the race wars fired up and statues began to be torn down and cities were razed with violence, some people paid attention and made moves to leave the cities and danger zones. Thus, this village was born… of the desperate, of the woke, of the educated... in order to continue after the great war was finished.”

  Aeryn gazed at the barns as one emotion after another ran through him. He thought of his village of Rysa, the filth, the poverty, and the oppression. How could these people live such good lives when there were so many that were suffering at the hands of the cruel Elites? Turning his face to the old man he scowled. “So why didn’t these people help mine? They live good lives here, you have food, warriors, and weapons,” he growled and waved his arm in the air toward the village, “why didn’t you help us?” he spat. Anger coursed through him thinking of his own suffering, of Mauri and Jorin’s suffering.

  “Because we didn’t have the army, the numbers we needed to begin another war. It has taken years to train and build this, you must understand. We needed allies, we needed the villages, like Rysa, to pull together and help us in this fight! Most were apathetic and willing to accept the social score,” Old Man growled back. He could understand the man’s anger. He was angry too.